


Dib's Final (Lunch) Hour

by sugardabbler



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Blood and Guts, Cartoon gore, Child Death, Dark Comedy, Gen, People Eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 14:17:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20508407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugardabbler/pseuds/sugardabbler
Summary: In which Zim finds a remedy for the Armada's shortage of resources and does away with his nemesis, all in one afternoon.





	Dib's Final (Lunch) Hour

"I suppose you are wondering why you're here."

Although Dib's head throbbed as he began to regain consciousness, he could recall the "how" and "when" of why he ended up shackled to an operating table deep in an underground alien laboratory: his green skoolmate had not-so-sneakily chucked a lunch tray weighed down by cafeteria beans at his face. But whichever dastardly scheme he would have to foil this day was a mystery.

"You see," Zim explained before anyone could get in a word of protest. "The Irken Armada, mighty as it is, has been experiencing a critical shortage of the food supplies needed to sustain its vast and immeasurable number of soldiers. But I have an idea that will solve this crisis _and_ put all 7.7 billion of your smelly human brethren to good use."

One could almost see the gears turning in Dib's giant head. His expression of annoyance shifted to one of horror as he slowly began to piece together the plan.

"You want to devour us all!" he choked. "You _fiend!_"

"Yes, thank you," Zim said modestly. "And as you so cleverly guessed with your inferior brain, I am researching the potential use of humans as an alternative food source to supply the Tallest's armies. You should be proud to be at the forefront of such a noble discovery, Dib-creature."

"Now BEHOLD, the instrument of your doom!" He produced a small utensil and held it dangerously close to Dib's face.

Dib blinked. "You're going to eat me with a spoon?" His voice was shaky, but showed hints of relief at Zim's apparent incompetence.

Zim grinned his widest grin and pressed a small button on its handle. Four small tines popped from the tip of the spoon.

Dib screamed. And he continued to scream as Zim dug the newly transformed spork into the soft, exposed flesh of his belly, emerging with a generous piece of meat that was eagerly gobbled up.

It didn't make Zim gag, or burn his skin, _or_ turn his insides inside out, and for that much he was grateful. He chewed it carefully.

"An aquired taste, perhaps. Much like what you Earth cretins call a 'pig'. But satisfactory none the less," he declared, lips smacking in appreciation. He helped himself to a second, third, and twelfth bite of his rival, unmoved by the pained shrieks and squirms until--

"Noooo, that's a major artery!" Dib cried out. Zim had rammed his spork into an appetizing piece of his prisoner's squishy, pulsing organs, and was met with a sudden burst of blood to the face.

"Eeesh! Human blood is so vile, so reeeed," he hissed, wiping his eyes. "Each day your species finds a new way to astound and disgust me!"

Still... it was worth sampling. Zim raised a bloodied finger to his mouth and cautiously licked it.

The blood was smooth and full-bodied, with rich, metallic undertones. Not to mention comfortably warm, and salted to taste. It was unlike anything he had ever tried! Zim messily lapped the remaining gore off his gloves. And luckily for _only_ him, blood continued to erupt from Dib's chest chavity in a comical fashion. Zim failed to resist prancing like a child who had discovered an overturned ice cream truck.

"This is amazing!" he said, arms outstretched as he relished the shower of sweet nectar pelting his face. "Think of all the uses for this. Why, we could market it as a holiday beverage!" He continued to cackle until, disappointingly, the last of Dib's blood evacuated his body.

The fun was over but Earth-boy was not off the menu. Zim resumed lunch, this time foregoing cutlery (and all basic table manners) to reach in and pluck Dib's heart like a ripe apple. However, mealtime was nowhere near as enjoyable without his subject's futile wailing to keep Zim company. Now his body laid pale and still.

"Hey, don't look so down," Zim said through a mouthful of chewy guts. "You've already contributed so much to our noble galatic conquest."

Then he got a brilliant idea. "Here... try yourself!" He brought a sporkful of Dib's own muscle matter to his lips. But he couldn't be enticed to chew, even after several thrusts of the utensil, and eventually a rough shake on the shoulder.

"It seems the Dib has expired," Zim announced to nobody in particular. "GIR! Fetch me a doggy bag!"

_It's time to open a transmission to the Almighty Tallest,_ he thought, turning around to march to his computer. _There are 7.69 billion humans on this pathetic Earth and soon they will all _serve _the Irken Empire. My leaders will be most pleased to hear that our people will be well fed._

**Author's Note:**

> i was really anxious about writing something for this fandom cause i wasnt sure if i could pull it off (nothing a little vodka couldnt help) glad i did anyway cause it was a blast working on this.
> 
> spot the animorphs/twilight zone references!


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